CHAPTER EIGHTY. THE MOMENT OF TRUTH

Oliver took a moment to steady himself, feeling the sting of the crowd's increasingly vicious jeers. Their judgment was relentless, and the weight of their scorn began pressing down on him.

He knew that staying would only worsen the situation, so he decided to leave.

Just as he turned to make his exit, something caught his eye through the large windows of the bank. Outside, two tinted Land Cruiser jeeps pulled up—vehicles that exuded wealth and power. As the crowd inside the bank noticed the scene unfolding, their attention shifted slightly.

A guard in a sharp suit stepped out of the first car and opened the back door. From within emerged an elderly man, though not too elderly, perhaps in his late 60s. He wore an impeccably tailored suit that hugged his frame with the elegance of someone used to commanding respect.

His hair was neatly combed back, and his posture was upright, radiating an aura of authority and control. He had a polished air about him—his wristwatch gleamed gold, a